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Minor Dialogues #9

July 15, 2009
by

Rowan: How old are you?

BN: You know how old I am – have a think…

Rowan: ummmmmmmmmm….. 31

BN: Nooo – no – not 31 – have a think

Rowan: 34!!

BN: That’s it 🙂

Rowan: How old is Mummy?

BN: Well you know how old Mummy is – have a think…

Rowan: 30 hundred and 1!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Rowan: Daddy where is your Daddy.

BN: He’s dead darling. He died.

BN and Rowan and I have had this conversation a lot in the last few months since she noticed that BN doesn’t have a Dad. Rowan also knows that BN had Thyroid issues a long time ago and that he had his removed. He has a mighty impressive scar across his neck and obviously once you get to a certain age you may notice that particular curiosity and want to ask questions. We have always been about truth in the right doses and so she knows what she needs to know about both subjects.

The thing with kids – I say ‘kids’ because I’m assuming that mine aren’t the only ones that ask incessant questions…. the thing with kids is they like to go over and over. They question, then they listen, they process, they question, listen, then they clarify and then they ask for more detail and then they clarify some more, then ask some more questions until we all DIE OF INSANITY.

With a little sibling around, Rowan’s questioning is a source of information for Ella that Rowan just didn’t have at that age. Ella sits by and listens and absorbs and occasionally will chip in with questions of her own. Disagreement or support for Rowan depending on what is being asked and the information that is being given. She is learning stuff beyond what she would ask really – and she has been known to miss the point on more than one occasion.

So – Rowan likes to hear the story of how Grandad was poorly, too poorly for Doctors to help him etc. only we’re not ready to give her more detail yet so the story is getting a little repetitive in the telling.

BN: He’s dead darling – as you know…

Rowan: Why couldn’t the doctors help him cos he was so poorly?

BN: Well sometimes people get so poorly the doctors can’t help…

Rowan: Did they take *his* Thyroid out?

BN: Nooooo…..they just had to take my thyroid out.

Rowan: *pointing at his neck* They put staples in your neck, did they take the staples out?

BN: Yes they took my staples out.

Ella had been sitting on BN’s lap the whole time…

Ella: I love you when they take your staples out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rowan: I’m not going to call you Daddy anymore now I’m a big girl. I’m going to call you Dad. And I’m not going to call Mummy Mummy anymore.

BN: You going to call her Mum?

Rowan: Nope! I’m going to call her Mamma.

Hmm. And this is different because……?

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5 Comments leave one →
  1. Mancais permalink
    July 15, 2009 9:37 pm

    Made me laugh

  2. Merry permalink
    July 15, 2009 9:51 pm

    Oh we’ve done these conversations such a lot.

    I’ve just noticed we are both married to someone with a dead parent. How odd not to think about it already.

    My enter key has just fallen off.

  3. July 16, 2009 3:24 am

    because ‘yo mamma’ is so hip and with it???

    xc

  4. July 16, 2009 9:21 am

    You should consider yourselves lucky that it’s only Dad and Mamma you’re being called. When the boy really wants to get our attention he shouts out our full names using the exact tone we use for each other when we’re getting mad!

  5. July 16, 2009 8:40 pm

    I have a post for that tonight!

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